Butterfly Effect
by CoolyCakeCove
Summary: The effect a person can have on the world is phenomenal, even if it takes a while to see said results. One birth will cause a butterfly divergence. Reborn!OC
1. chapter one

**begin again | chapter one**

 _butterfly born_

.

 _ **ultimate tuna noodle casserole**_

 _a comforting and reliable dish, perfect for funeral receptions. made with tuna, noodles, and cream of celery._

 _._

prep time: 5 minutes

cook time: 40 minutes

cuisine: american

* * *

I'd known from the start everything was different now.

It all began with my name—my new name. I knew I already had a name—cherished it for seventeen-odd years, I did!—that began everything. _Chouyo Akimichi_ , a name too precise to be a mere coincidence, was given to me. I was stuck in my own woes, my own mind, _waiting waiting waiting_ for this newborn body to open its eyes, magically understand Japanese, and piece together the clues.

Months went by, months filled by sleep, worrying, fear, and trying to reprogram my mind into a world of loud, boisterous people. Always was a certain bundle of warmth was near me, a boy with a name I couldn't _yet_ accept through my layers of denial-to-keep-me-sane.

When my eyes could begin to process things instead of a big blury mess, I couldn't deny the truth any more.

Before me was a body curled in on itself with wild, brown hair and red hues on chubby cheeks. He was chubby, way chubbier than a baby should be at his age. Looking down, so was I. His eyes were shut tight, but his body was relaxed in sleep. He looked _so familiar_. Uncanny resemblance, an identical copy.

Was _that_ Chouji Akimichi? From a _show_? A _series_?

The first of May, five months ago, he was born— _we_ were born! _Chouji and Chouyo_ , though I was born first; it was all too natural to add my name at the end. We were _twins_. Chouji Akimichi did not have any siblings, certainly no older twin.

If that wasn't already bad enough, six days later the Nine Tails attacked.

The atmosphere was _vile_ and _wrong_ , _vengeful_ and _overwhelming_. Chouji wailed and I found myself doing the same involuntarily. Strong arms held me—Chouji, sounding close, had to be near me—and carried me to a place of nothingness. Calm, spiraling energy with a cool zephyr. My eyes wouldn't open. My body was still too stiff to move. Adults comforted me while I tried to gain control again.

I was terrified. Tonight, the Fourth died! Naruto was born! I was a _child_ who would grow up and meet the _jinchuuriki_ boy. I was _Chouji's sister_! I was panicking as well as overloading myself with anxiety! I was having an anxiety attack and a panic attack all at once. No wonder did someone force me to sleep!

I woke up two days later, back in bed. Our house suffered damage, but not anything a royal shinobi family could handle. From my broken wall, I saw the village in shambles, in a somber state, and realized with a start _I can have an_ _ **effect**_ _in this world; all of it; I know everything that had, has, and will have happened in this world. This is my domain._

* * *

It didn't take long to realize that the Akimichi Clan was the embodiment of camaraderie. Anybody who was a natural born Akimichi was family—they treated distant cousins like close sisters and brothers. Meal was five times a day: Morning, Noon, Late Noon, Evening, and Midnight and they were _huge_! Evening meals were the biggest, loudest, and most exciting of them all. In the center of the Akimichi Compound was a gigantic mess hall with a domed ceiling, murals on all the walls depicting grand nature landscapes, and the Japanese character for _food_ everywhere: columns, walls, tabletops.

Even though the Akimichi had a flair for eating, it was really impressive to see how clean everything was.

By the time Chouji and I were five months, our mama fed us in gusto. She fed us milk far more often than my old mother fed me, plus began to add thick oatmeal to our diets. We were beginning to pack fat _this_ early. I'll admit, the extra weight felt suffocating at times, being used to a thin body for decades.

Approaching one, it was our papa that loved to bring Chouji and me to the mess hall where I discovered that _this_ was the heart and soul of the clan. (That a ruler should go here and become intimately aware of their people.)

My papa, the Fifteenth Head of the Akimichi Clan Chouza Akimichi, loved our company. His voiced carried, and there something so comforting to be close to the strongest guy in the _entire_ room. Like most, his eyes were perpetually closed and made his rounded face even more so. Whereas Chouji got his hair from our mama, I got his burgundy hair (that I have to force into two, frizzy pigtails). Papa reminded me of a hedgehog or a porcupine by the way his massive hair cocooned his back.

During mealtimes, either cradled in Papa's large warmth or within Mama's familiar arms, the mess hall was filled by the noises of teeth ripping through food or the loud chatterings of Akimichi everywhere discussing their lives. Most of their words were lost on me due to my imperfect grasp of the language. But I found out that total language immersion had rapidly increased my learning speed. At least, in my old world, it would take a year what took me in a couple months now.

Chouji, as sweet as he was, wasn't too keen on interacting a lot. He became fussy when he was surrounded by too many people for too long and needed to recharge. I was _fascinated_ by this new world and couldn't get enough of babbling to my family in butchered Japanese, and enjoying their delighted giggles at my stunts! Their happiness became my own. Mealtimes were more for entertaining my _audience_ than eating.

My family had a spectrum from slightly chubby to completely obese. The thinnest people were usually married-in women or the sick. The heaviest people were elders and elite Akimichi shinobi. In a clan known for turning their fat into _power_ , who wouldn't want to pack on a few pounds? Granted some _hated_ to be compared to beauty standards of a slim waist and curvy body and would fight you for mentioning it so insensitively. Like the rest, I had my own share of fat and—surprise, surprise!—I was not weighed down at all.

Even though I was far heavier than a normal baby, I was not slow or sluggish like a "fat" person should be. Be it the chakra circulating and growing within me, or because of my uniqueness, I felt as if I had the body of an athlete!

So even though my tummy bounced as I ran, I felt _alive_. Chouji, on the other hand, didn't like to use all his energy. He liked to think because he was so "big-boned" he couldn't _possibly_ be super fast. He wasn't telling me it, but I was certain the issued lied between lack of confidence and humility.

I had a fun time entertaining my giant family at mealtimes. It was hard to know when to stop until Mama forced me to sit and eat.

"Chouza- _chan_ , Umami- _chan_ , your little daughter is very adorable!" I knew the voice keenly. She had a thick, Japanese accent and favored some slightly archaic words and styles. She made it rather difficult to comprehend the full meaning of her words. Me being less than one year alive, and all. "Look at her bright eyes! Is not Chouyo- _cchi_ so — — mm?"

It had to be a compliment. The woman scooped me up, and I was cradled by a mix of thick arms and a large chest. She was one of the elders that acted like legislators in the world I left behind, with Papa being the Prime Minister. And whenever the Elders and Papa weren't in meetings, the Elders were the ceremonial heads to the Akimichi Clan; they're there to look good whilst Papa actually makes the decisions.

Still, I had no doubt Granny Mochi—her name—was a formidable shinobi in her youth! She was covered in scars as a reminder of her bravery or foolishness during the wars, visible due to her short-sleeved kimono and her skirt that rode up her thick calves. I'd seen her shut eyes open once before to reveal baby blues, and her eyelids were painted lavender.

I pulled at her thinning, gray hair 'cause I saw babies do that to others, including _me_. I didn't pull so hard as to hurt her. Granny Mochi laughed as my fingers grazed her ceremonial head pin: a poppy flower coated in gold on its contour.

Papa spoke Japanese too fast for me, but smiled and poked my cheek.

As Granny Mochi cradled me, urging me to pronounce her name, not knowing my first word was the ever typical "papa" (my mouth just could _not_ form _mo - chi - o - baa - baa_ ), the other Elders grew near. I heard Chouji whining, probably due to all the people in such a small space. As if Granny Mochi flicked a button, Elders went from admiring me from afar to close-up.

I grinned and made loud sounds to please them, squirming all the while.

"Chouyo- _cchi_ is very bright indeed! Like a—summer—sky—happiness," is what I gathered; didn't help as the mess hall picked up volume. "I believe in my little butterfly..." And I saw heads bobbing in agreement.

* * *

Our first birthday was _spectacular_.

Papa was the Fifteenth Head. That royalty made for certain Chouji and I would receive a good party. What we got was way more than expected.

I'd grew up with parents telling me _never_ to eat deserts before eating my meal. Well, lined up on the table was every kind of Japanese desert one could imagine _and then more._ The party was outside with a picnic-theme to it, yet it smelled like sugar and corn syrup and whipped cream... the best of all was Granny Mochi's cake (that Papa was adamant I eat first): sweet, crunchy, thick, _goodness_.

Being an Akimichi, we had _amazing_ noses and tongues... regarding food, of course. We were picky eaters—no, we were vicious eaters. No one no one no one tolerated poorly prepared food or cheap alternatives. Food was a sacred art. It deserved to be treated with respect.

That turned every Akimichi into a Gordon Ramsay.

The deserts served were top of the line. As the birthday twins, we stuffed our faces—obliterated them! Never had I tasted such magnificent food. I could almost _cry_.

We got few presents since most of an Akimichi's concern is centered around food. I got a few workbooks to start my academics and a pretty, sage green dress with floral design and a princess-y appeal. Chouji got typical boy and ninja toys. Our aunt even bought him ninja underwear with the phrase "Will of Fire" on them. I laughed, shortly before she gave me a matching pair.

Chouji and I were bears. We slept the first week of our first year and woke up with more fat. When we were finally coherent enough to be productive humans, Papa sat us in two chairs, a short distance apart, and took something out his pocket.

In his hand was a plate with an array of dried colors, almost like water-color paint that hadn't been used. Quickly, he pricked us with a needle. The pain was delayed. Chouji whined and I got silent, annoyed from the pain radiating from my arm.

Papa hovered our needles over the paint-looking palette. Chouji's blood dropped on the red one. My blood dropped on the green one. At once, the blood turned the dried slab into a liquid mess. Papa manifested a brush, dipped it into the red, and drew _spirals_ on Chouji's cheeks.

 _Oh_! I babbled, trying to get my Papa to speed up!

A new brush was dipped into the green paint and Papa hovered it near my face. It radiated _me_. The brush was lowered just under my eyes, _warm and breathing_. He marked me with a quick tap, three more times in a row. Then he mirrored under my left eye. One last line fell under my bottom lip to my chin. The _paint?_ dried fast. I felt the remnants of extreme warmth before it began to match my temperature. Touching it, I found no smearing.

"There you are, little ones," Papa chuckled, holding a mirror for us to see. "You are truly Akimichi now."

* * *

Being in a shinobi family meant starting young. Obviously Chouji and I would have to become shinobi. We weren't limited to field shinobi jobs, though. So long as we were involved in the shinobi career pathway.

We would exercise everyday in the mornings, noon, and evenings. The routines were really slow and easy for us. Every fortnight we would make the routine slightly more difficult.

Whenever Papa wasn't busy, Mama taught us. And when she was swept away to help her husband, another would teach us. We got lucky and had Mama with us today.

Mama was definitely married-in. She had tree trunk colored hair that curled around her face and chest. Her black eyes were almost dark gray plus were big and owlishly wide like mine. Her skin was tanned because she loved the outdoors. Always did she wear an apron tied to her kimono—the blue violet robes betraying her plump body underneath. Her fat was centered around her torso almost like a pregnant woman.

Mama rarely, if ever, wore shinobi shoes. She stuck to sandals or barefeet. Her feet were perfectly manicured, so at least she wasn't neglectful. Whereas Papa was more discreet, Mama was loud and bubbly with red circles painted on her cheeks in resemblance to a permanent blush.

"Good job, Joji," Mama praised Chouji using his nickname. "You're doing a phenomenal job! Good enthusiasm, Joyo!"

I giggled—thrilled I was getting this body closer and closer to my older body—and Chouji blushed. We were trying to reach our toes while sitting. Chouji grabbed his shins while I reached my foot to my head, with difficulty due to my belly.

"Aaaaand relax! We deserve a break, don't we? I think we've made great progress, hm?"

Chouji flopped over, grasping for a box of candies he stuck in his pants. I continued exercising and stole pieces of his candy: chocolate covered pickle slices. _Mm_.

Mama helped me with a few stretches I did wrong, saying, "We Akimichi need to keep our bodies in tip-top shape! We need to be able to elongate our body as needed! You see what Papa does when he fights? That's not something you gain overnight, you know." Mama tickled my belly and sent me falling into a fit of laughter.

I really wanted to know how Mama met Papa. Did something like Minato and Kushina happen? Was it cuter than that? I was barely reaching two, so if I were to ask, Mama would give me the saccharine sweet toddler version.

I liked how this family was very similar to my American family. A trip outside our compound would see that the Leaf villagers were so obviously Japanese! My family would calm down considerably in public as to not be too different. At least the transition of an entirely new culture wasn't such a jarring event. I could take my time unlearning the instincts I'd built and become something new.

Aside from eating and exercising, I kept more active than Chouji. I couldn't lose fat easily—I could barely lose it at all! I kept my body moving for I didn't want to mess with chakra without a master. I could kill myself alone. _Really_ , what right did I have fooling around with such a dangerous thing at two? What if I flipped a switch and started burning fat? Either I could die, or my parents would know their toddler is far more advanced than anticipated.

Using this new bionic body was way more _fun_. Running miles in under seven minutes, upper body strength that could make teen boys cry, stamina I dreamed in my past life... my zest for living was easy to notice and was what got my mama to teach me a new technique.

" _Meditation_ ," Mama said, in a tone implying the word meant something on par with Bijuu Mode or the First's Wood Release techniques. "The great masters say you must train the body, the heart, and the _mind_. Muscular fitness helps the body perform well externally, cardio fitness helps the body perform internally, and mind fitness helps the body perform well mentally."

"Don't wanna," I pouted with my minimal Japanese. Meditation was good for spiritual energy, meaning chakra. But I didn't want to use chakra just yet. Sounded like pouring salt into a bitter wound.

"Now, now, Joyo, health is a two way street! If you don't keep your mind in tip top shape, you won't be able to push past your barriers and grow! There is always a point in training where you don't want to get up and work immediately. You want to procrastinate and skip your training. Or maybe you can't push yourself hard enough to keep going. There's a little voice in your head: ' _We've dunna lotta work today! It's okay to give up and take a looong break!_ ' If you give in, it shows how weak you really are mentally. That will come in bite you in the butt later in life." Mama made a fist and grinned. "So let's conquer it now rather than later, huh?!"

Couldn't argue her words. So Mama ended up teaching me after all.

"Breathe in and out naturally. Focus on your breathing and only your breathing. If you get off track, start all over."

She'd obviously been doing it a long, long time. I guess it made sense; I saw plenty of martial arts movies where the artists would meditate before a battle, though I never really understood the point of it. I thought it to be a "rule of cool"—like backflips lasting ten seconds too long, dust generated from smacking the ground, _floating_! in the air to pull off epic kicks—the "rule of cool" turned out to be pretty darn difficult.

Within ten seconds, my mind wandered. I spent countless time restarting. Mama was like a statue with her mastery. Could meditation really help me? It couldn't hurt... but why was it so hard to sit still and do nothing but breathe?

"It's not supposed to be easy," Mama told me afterwards. "You'll grow into it. Let's start at 30 seconds and work our way up to 5 minutes. That should be enough, huh?"

Mama was still jolly and confident in her daughter. It was infectious. "Yeah..."

"Yay! Alright, exercise in mornings and meditations in the afternoon! Usually I do mine before I go to sleep, but my little one passes out after dinner," and she pinched my chubby cheeks.

"Can't _help_ it!" I wailed through laughter and tried to pry myself away. Rather than be called "autumn road," we should be called bears. Far more suitable!

* * *

When Chouji and I turned three and five, we had even more elaborate birthday parties. Supposedly in the past, children died so frequently that if a child made past the three-five-seven year markers, they were sure to be adults—at least teenagers.

An Akimichi loved holidays, festivals, parades, and parties. They all boiled down to good eating, good-er conversations, and good-est sleep, but each party was still unique enough to be remembered!

When I hit five years of age, Mama began teaching Chouji and I how to cook _real_ good. Training didn't start at preparing dishes. Rather, it began with fully understanding every spice's aroma and taste. Learning "ingredient families"—what fruits or vegetables tasted sweet, sour, bitter, more. Understanding the presentation of dish—what colors could stimulate hunger the most, how to keep the dish looking good enough to eat. Two gluttonous children enjoyed our "food boot camp!"

"What's this again?" I said to my brother, holding a small jar filled with greenish dust the color of my dress.

Chouji leaned and sniffed the closed jar. "That's parsley. 'S gotta earthy, kinda bitter _mmph_ to it. You forgot again, Joyo?"

"I know that stuff, just—I don't really get the names and looks of all these things," I responded in slangy, shortened Japanese. I had _so_ many things to remember that ingredients never stuck in my head. Heck, if it tasted good, use it!

"You're gonna fail Mama's test like that. You gotta study..."

"I wish we got twin telepathy," I said instead, smiling. "'Cause you could think all the answers to me, Joji!"

Chouji scrunched his face in thought. "You mean... you wanna be Yamanaka? I kinda like my own family, though..."

I ruffled his hair, to cheer him up. I was glad Chouji was my brother. He was so sensitive, honest, and caring. If I did anything weird, it didn't bother him much. If I was forced to be the sibling of any other Rookie Nine, I was greatful it's Chouji. _Plus_ it was sort of cool being in this clan where obesity-related health problems were no big deal like normal villagers! We'd been a big-boned family for decades, probably a century. Our body had adapted to the surplus fat whereas the villagers adapted to the lack thereof.

But! That did not mean "eat everything little thing in sight whenever." Obesity was still an issue amongst those who were 400 pounds plus. And it was always a threat if an Akimichi didn't eat proper foods to support our hard-working heart.

Above all, cardio ended up the main fitness—not muscular training nor mental training—every Akimichi had to do in some point in their lives.

On the topic of hearts, it reminded me about my death.

I had years to cope with my death and years to cope with being Chouji's sister. Admittedly, I thought it was a little embarrassing; Chouji never really accomplished anything grand. His fight in the Chuunin Exams was... _lackluster_. And when he and Ino helped Shikamaru against Kakuzu, I wasn't really impressed. It felt as though he was holding Shikamaru back.

Some of those feelings lingered. Most of my feelings were now more for his well-being. Because, _crap_ , he was going to lose his teacher! He was going to be bullied over his weight and be too gentle to stand up! He was going to become a side character with so little screen time and development! Being with him 24/7 like this, I _knew knew knew_ my little brother was amazing! He just needed a little helping hand.

"I don't like my family," I said, watching as Chouji stared at me, bewilderment making his eyes wide. "I love my family, Joji!"

He relaxed and grumbled a bit, "That's real cheesy..."

"But it's true!"

"Yeah, yeah. Study so you don't fail tomorrow..."

I grabbed another jar, one filled with a reddish-orange powder. "What's this, Joji?"

"That's..." His eyes went real wide, almost reminding me of an adorable piglet (as his twin, didn't that mean I looked like a piglet, too?). "That's the chili powder for the chili pill!"

I heard it before. I didn't know whether it was from this world or my Olden World. "The what?"

"That's super spicy like that! You can already smell the heat!"

"Oh..."

This jar was like Thai food! Or like Indian curry! I was enchanted by this strange world of ninja, wanting to try _everything_ , and so I popped open the jar and ate a tablespoon of the powder.

" _Chouyo_!"

I figured if anything went wrong, there was medical ninja. Sides—what harm could a little _spice_ do? Milk was the best cure for spice! And ice cream was an even better remedy!

My lips began to burn.

Followed by my tongue, the inside of my cheeks, my throat— _I smelled heat_.

Was my face swollen? Felt like it! I was a balloon! There was a waterfall leaking out my nose! Had my skin always been this red?

I kept breathing with my mouth open. Cool air blew the heat around in my body.

"Mama!" Chouji gave me one terrified look before dashing deeper into our home.

I jumped off the stool and headed to the fridge about four times my height and width (which is saying much due to my chubbiness). I snatched the milk bag still breathing fire like a dragon, and guzzled down as much of the cold, white gold...

A thousand needles were pricking my mouth without stop. My temperature could rival the surface of the Sun!

" _Chouyo Akimichi_."

I turned around like a creaky door. Not a big fan at seeing angry mamas. Specially not my mama.

She was slightly disgruntled. Fists at her hips, face as crimson as her painted cheeks and my hair, grayish eyes a frosty murder. "Didn't Mama tell you _never_ eat out the jars?"

I couldn't argue back—mostly 'cause the only thing I could do is resist the urge to guzzle more milk.

"She wanted to know what was in it," Chouji offered.

"Maybe so. But your sister needs to learn self-control! And so Chouyo must be punished!"

"Mama—"

"I won't take any no's, Joji."

...on the bright side, I got to see what a real ninja punishment was.

After the milk settled to where I was in no danger of puking and the burn was a dull throb, Mama punished me.

Said punishment was no dinner. _Both dinners_. By morning, my gut was howling like banshee and throbbed. The hollowness of hunger burned fair more than that chili powder.

* * *

For a long time, we weren't bound to any leadership duty. One of us had to become the Sixteenth Head in the future, but who? It was too soon to tell.

Chouji was kind, gentle, observant. Though he wasn't the most extroverted, he cared a lot about others and their wellbeing far before his own. He didn't have courage as he liked to hide behind his sister. That could be changed in time.

Chouyo, me—I lacked the ability to see how others could see me. I figured most saw me as enthusiastic and inquisitive. I tried to keep my achievements the same as Chouji, to keep from getting too much attention on myself (what if Chouji got jealous of me? what if Danzou got his hands on me?). I loved working out, though, whereas Chouji adored cooking, so my stamina and endurance were amazing for a kid my age.

 _And_ it made it that much harder for Mama to get me to sleep at night. Even though I was much older than I was physically, I _so_ wanted to be a child again! And that meant running around the house, trying to avoid sleeping!

One afternoon, when Chouji and I were exercising, Papa separated me from Chouji—already a bad sign. He set me on his shoulders, I gripped his shaggy, burgundy hair, and he carried me out the backyard and down the pebbled pathway. I saw a few Akimichi outside their homes, playing Japanese games or chatting in groups. I waved to them as Papa did, receiving smiles the adults couldn't keep from appearing.

He took me to a place I'd never been before: a hemisphere-shaped building near the back. When the vertical wall began to curve, glass was there, slightly foggy, and continued up to the apex and back down all around. I saw greenery throughout the glass. Papa opened the curved double doors and humid heat pelted me. It smelt like earth—and so many delicious spices, my mouth was watering!

Then I saw it. As the doors shut behind us, the sound caused a thousand colors to swarm the sky. Vivid blues, burnt oranges, yellows, lavender—"Oh, Papa! _Butterflies_!"

He chuckled as I strained myself to see the beautiful creatures resting on the huge expanse of shrubs, bushes, leaves. _Flowers_ of all kinds and shapes perfumed the garden. "Welcome, Joyo. This is where your and my name comes from: butterflies. At first, one would assume the word 'butterfly' is too delicate to refer to people such as us."

Papa's arm grew, stretched like gum to reach the ceiling, and _carried_ us with it. Hanging at the top, I could see the entirety of the butterfly garden. So many colors! Patterns!

"But that would be misunderstanding why we are the butterfly clan. It is not a description of who we are. Rather, it's a description of what we are and what we want to show others." He gestured all around us. "We are vibrant, beautiful, and _free_. Most villagers are weighed down with the solemnity of the yet-to-come. We Akimichi live in the present. We will do whatever we can to make the present most liveable."

"I see," I told him, giddy and jolly. "I get it now! We are butterflies!"

"Yes, correct. And as my daughter, you'll become the Sixteenth Head one day. You'll lead the Akimichi Clan to success."

"Joji too. We're twins, Papa!" Honestly, I didn't think I had it in me—to lead and try to change the future as well. Chouji would help me, no questions asked!

"Yes. That may happen as well." He paused. I rested my chin on his head. I didn't get the luxury of having a papa when I was from another time. "When you are six, you will attend the Ninja Academy, little one. You'll graduate and go on to become a brilliant kunoichi."

"Uh-huh!" Still, I had to spend _six years_ in school all over again. It was going to be fun as it was a ninja school, but it still meant waking up early, homework, grades, blah. With my wisdom, I won't mess up my school years this time. "Mm, Papa, what about my teammates? Yamanaka and Nara?"

"Ah, what a bright one you are. Yes, you'll likely be paired with a Yamanaka and a Nara."

"Can I meet them?" I was a little hesitant. I didn't want to screw up my first encounter with Ino and Shikamaru.

"Not now. Shikaku believes in you three becoming friends naturally, rather than forcing different-minded individuals together. The bonds you form will be artificial, at best."

"...oh, okay." That wasn't too disappointing. I had more time to be prepared.

* * *

Chouji and I began a weekly routine of heading to the playground. All social interactions we had previously were with clan children. After all, it was better for us to understand our clan better than the outside. But due to our eminent time to go to school, we had to adapt.

I was really accustomed to my fat, so it was startling to see so many stares. Little fingers poked at my fat, made blunt remarks about my weight. Chouji didn't handle the criticism too well, and stayed behind me or Mama. I gave the children the benefit of the doubt and tried to console my brother.

"We're playing ninja right now," a boy in rags told me. "You sure you can play? You seem too fat to run around."

"I can kick you guys's butts any day," I quipped.

Chouji sat to the side and watched me play Ninja. The version I played was the "enemy ninja" had to find the "good ninja" who were hiding in secret. Once found, the enemy and the good had a chase. If the good was caught, they joined the enemy's team. The good had to escape the enemy by successfully out running them and hiding once more.

I got picked as the enemy ninja. I didn't have any level of chakra sense, so I had rely on myself. I crept through the playground real sneaky-like until I saw the first head of hair behind the slide.

I grinned. "I see you!"

A girl ran from under the slide, giggling and squealing. I dashed after her with way more speed than she was expecting. Within seconds I had her shoulder in hand and she was confused she was out so fast.

The game played out similarly. Whenever my teammates found hidden children, I would sprint after them and catch them. After my first, flawless victory, it was agreed I should _never_ be the enemy ninja—less they want a really hard game!

Hiding was way difficult because of my size. No one wanted to hide near me. My gut and burgundy hair made me a beacon. I spent more time searching for really good hiding spots than actually hiding. Fortunately, I could outrun my pursuers and try again for the perfect place!

I found a perfect spot: an empty, girly playhouse that hadn't been used in a while. There were webs and the house's color was faded. Guess no one wanted to clean it up. It was big enough for seven- or eight-year-olds. I slipped in, closed the door, and " _Hey_. Get your own spot..."

I turned. From the light casted from the nearly closed windows, I saw the _boy_ who spoke to me. _No way, it's totally... totally_...

"We can both share it," I compromised, feeling cold sweat on my back and scratched at it. "Can't really hide anywhere, yanno!"

I'd seen him before. His visits were infrequent because of his laziness, but he was there, usually quiet and aloof. The way he was slouched against the wall with a half-hearted scowl was a dead ringer he'd been trying to sleep. Never had the guts for a conversation, though!

"Lame," he sighed. "Gotta share a girly place with a girl? How troublesome..."

"Let's... know each other!" A failsafe if I were to accidentally mutter his name. "Name's Chouyo Akimichi! My brother is Chouji! He doesn't really like playing... if you open the window, he's messing with worms and stuff."

He shrugged, having lost whatever he had a mental debate about. "I'm Shikamaru Nara. I seen him around. Seems nice. Always eating. Got any food on you, too?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out rice balls with crab inside. "No duh!"

We ate the rice balls together in mutual silence. Other kids were found one by one.

"This where you hide?" I said. "I can never find you, so..."

"It changes. Honestly, ninja is fun and all, but it's the same-old every time. Dad says I need to 'expand my horizons', or whatever. I like coming here to sleep. Nobody wants to be near this place."

"Oh. I like being here 'cause my belly sticks out." I patted it for emphasis.

"Yeah, thought as much. You're fast to be so fat," he commented bluntly, like little children did.

"Thanks! Some people hate all this extra me, though!"

"If you ask me, it's cool. Don't bug people 'bout their lives. It ain't my problem. Don't really care about your size, honestly."

So impulsively, I grasped Shikamaru's shoulder. He grimaced—in pain?—as I said, "You're cool as my brother! I'm happy, Shikamaru!"

"...sure, but don't get all hyper 'bout it. And not so loud—do you _wanna_ get caught?" He squirmed away from my touch. Mental note: try not to be too friendly with people outside the family.

A few weeks later, after my sixth birthday, I convinced Mama for us to ditch the playground and go somewhere more cool. Chouji, Shikamaru, and me ate barbecue under the sun. I hoped for the two of them to start chatting and becoming best of friends, but Chouji retreated into himself and Shikamaru began talking to me.

"Dad says Akimichi're the best cooks ever," he said nonchalantly. "Can you cook?"

"Yeah, but nothing super duper tough! Chouji's way better!" I gave him a look, a means of a conversation, but my brother stared at his barbecue and kept silent.

"You should make something and bring it. We can all eat it."

"What you wanna eat?"

"Dunno. Anything is cool, long as it isn't super greasy or sticky."

"How about desserts?!" My heart started pumping at the idea of sweet, sweet tastes. "Chouji and I can make a _mean_ cookie cake!"

"What's that? Cookies in shape of cake?"

"No, cookie _crumbs_ in the shape of a cake! Trust me, it's way yummier! It's way awesome feeling the bumps of cookies on tongue than the soft batter of cakes!" On a role, I kept explaining the brilliance of cookie cakes in quick, shortened words. I didn't even realize if Shikamaru still listened to me or drowned me out entirely. I was in the _zone_.

It became a thing to make food, eat together, and laze about. Shikamaru did most of the lazing around. Chouji busied himself with playing in nature. I chatted to our friend as I ran around.

"Shika! Bet I can eat this?" I shouted, consumed by too much energy, and showed him live worms.

He winced. "There's no way a girl's gonna do that."

"Oh yeah? Watch this!" I dropped them into my mouth. Worms were _salty_ and _earthy_. There were fine hairs on their bodies. As they wiggled in my mouth, my sensitive tongue could feel the muscles in their bodies move.

" _Gross_ ," hissed Shikamaru, both disgusted and fascinated. "You did it!"

Chouji looked disappointed! He mumbled to Shikamaru, "She always does dumb things like that sometimes. She gets too hyper."

"She eats worms a lot?" he said with a ghost of a grin.

"No. But she does dumb things like eating ants or bees. She takes advantage of med-ninjutsu..."

I beamed, even with the worms in my mouth. They were talking! And if I had to make a fool of myself to get Chouji speaking, fine by me!

* * *

The following March of next year was to be the month we began Academy. Mama took me shopping for school supplies and a new outfit. She found me a high-waisted, ruffle skirt to subdue most of my plumpness in a desert sand color. The skirt stopped an inch above my knees—well-calculated! My knees and below don't hold my fat at all! My olive green shirt had short, puffy sleeves that covered the curve of my shoulder and nothing more. I convinced Mama to let me wear shinobi ankle shoes rather than sandals because I needed to be able to be active. I also wore shorts underneath the skirt, to be on the safe side.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I was way more cute in this life. Mama managed to tame my hair into two, low buns and tied by green ribbons, matching the colors painted on my face.

The slate gray Akimichi emblem was sewn on a dark green sash I wrapped around my skirt like a belt. As we were leaving, I saw a nice pair of tan wristbands that Mama bought for me. It felt great being free of baby doll dresses!

Chouji, too, had a new pair of clothes that wasn't quite the close to what he first wore in the series. He went with green, blues, and browns. His jacket was as baggy as Shino's and I knew it held sweet treats and barbeque chips. "You look nice, Joyo."

I threw an arm around his shoulders and pressed our cheeks together. "Are you excited?! We're going to be _shinobi_!"

Yet rather than happiness, my brother cringed. My instincts knew something wasn't right. I didn't understand why my smile slipped off my face without warning, however.

"Chouyo," he began the worse sentence I wanted to hear, "I talked to Papa and... we agreed that I don't have to be a ninja right now. I don't want to do that scary and tough stuff right now. Please don't make me do it..."

My arm fell back to my side. Thud thud thud went my heart. "Chouji... you're not going to the Academy with me...?"

* * *

I felt exposed.

I'm by no means a small girl. Yet all around me were children who made me feel like a dwarf. There was no familiar warmth at my side. No one to mooch snacks off of. I bit into my strawberry _mochi_ hoping it could comfort me. (It didn't.)

Of course I insisted my brother come! I didn't want him to be alone! But he started crying and Papa got involved... I had to face the reality that my brother wasn't joining me.

I felt terrible.

It was my fault. He relied on me too much. He was too soft. Maybe this was also an issue in the official series... maybe Papa guilt-tripped him into attending, as he was the only child, the only successor.

 _I really miss my brother._

"Where's Chouji? You seem down," said a lethargic voice.

Shikamaru walked in step beside me. Sure he slouched in disinterest, but his eyes were alert.

"Chouji doesn't want to be a ninja—yet," I mumbled. "It's just me now. Guess you're in the Academy, too?"

"Yeah. Forced to."

We walked in silence as other children passed us up, laughing and messing around.

"I brought my lunchboxes," I said.

"Boxes?"

"Yeah. Four."

"You can eat four boxes? Huh. Can barely handle two."

"Wanna share?"

"Don't know. The other guys might think it's weird to be eating next to a girl. No offense."

"Then how about this? Good food and company? Or whatever your mama's packed?" My lips curved.

"Ugh. Troublesome... making me choose."

I didn't get a response. We got to the Ninja Academy and I whistled at the sight of the Hokage Rock so _freaking_ close. I could almost smell the rocks. Upon entering the Academy, it shook me by how little I actually knew of this place. Firstly, the halls and classrooms were divided into three sections: beginning, intermediate, advanced. The beginning section was obviously for children; there were bright colors, giant pictures with oversimplifications, and more idealistic than the outside world. There were posters—safety information, teamwork, shinobi propaganda—on every wall and class window.

As all students did on the first day of Ninia Academy, we attended the ceremony. Most of it was establishing the basics, the code to which the Academy would adhere to, and introducing new or reoccurring staff members—in which Iruka Umino! gave a sheepish smile as a first-time teacher. I got a little bit _too_ clap-happy, in which Shikamaru told me to cut it out. Then to kill the mood... the Third Hokage spoke to us with a grand speech. I didn't pay attention.

Hiruzen... was the reason the Legendary Three existed. He was also the reason a boy grew up, lonely and friendless. He was the reason that a certain old teammate caused an entire clan genocide that had yet to happen. I had conflicting feelings regarding him. As a result, he made me sick, so I ignored him and his presence.

Iruka, however, I downright adored. Yes, even he first hated a lonely boy, but he was _mature_ enough to move past it! When we entered his classroom, I crushed my new teacher in a big hug. My first impression to him would be hard to forget.

At his side was Mizuki, an amiable exterior hiding coldness underneath. As much as I wanted to stop him from hurting Naruto Uzumaki, he _did_ have an impact in the boy's life I couldn't just reverse like that.

I sat down next to Ino—two social butterflies side-by-side. During the obligatory speech Iruka and Mizuki had thrown together awkwardly, she whispered to me. "Woah! You're really big for a girl! You ever thought about dieting?"

My eyebrow twitched. _You're too young to be worrying about that!_ "Actually, I'm an Akimichi! The bigger we are, the stronger we are!"

Ino breathed in, familiar with the name. "Ah, I get it! You've got a pretty skirt on, too! But tan's a really plain color, you know? If you want to look slimmer, try blacks..."

"I like being plump," I smiled.

"Really? Okay... but can't we go shopping one day? Ruffles are cute, but you don't really look your age. You look four, not six." She blew back a bang of short, blonde hair.

"And that's okay!" I grinned hard, determined to not let her bluntness make me upset.

"Huh?" She shook her head and smiled. "You're so weird! I'm Ino Yamanaka, clan heiress, and work at the Yamanaka Flower Shop. I love cosmos and waterlilies the best. And you are?"

"Chouyo Akimichi. I gotta brother, too. I like sweet things!"

Ino held back a laugh. " _Obviously_. You smell like food! It's not really a bad thing; it smells like good food, so it's alright. You ever try pumpkin seeds in foods? I heard they're great for the skin..."

She was self-centered, like all kids were, like I was at her age. But, man, she could carry conversations. All I had to do was get her to talk about herself. Then she chatted for a good time.

Ino was really pretty with her flawless skin, natural grace, and lavender scent. Her confidence sealed the deal; within weeks of school starting, boys were giving her confession letters. I saw why Sakura gravitated to Ino, but why didn't Hinata do the same? Was she _that_ shy?

As pretty as she was, she didn't have too many real friends. Most girls mingled with her, but their conversations were so trivial that they would walk away knowing nothing about the other person.

The other girls were too intimidated by Ino's charm.

As expected, I was teased about my weight, though it didn't really disturb me. In my mandatory Kunoichi Class, I encountered Ami, Fuki, and another girl whose name I was _certain_ ended with a -ki. The teasing began because I wasn't "normal" and not being "normal" was a sin in this Japanese-based society. Being different was okay... provided that it wasn't so _out there_ like being three times the weight of the normal, underweight girls.

"You always smell like meat, don'cha?" snipped the violet-haired girl with a smirk. "Girls aren't cute if they weigh more than boys!"

We were in the middle of creating make-up. Ino, finished early, left to help the other girls. Apparently Ami and her posse had finished early too.

"What can I say? I like food and I'm not afraid to admit it," I told them, unperturbed. "Excuse me, I'm busy."

Ami wasn't too pleased with that. I was gunning on indifference making her grow bored and give up. Well, if she was stubborn enough to become a kunoichi despite being a normal civilian, my method wouldn't do much to dissuade her.

"You _should_ be. You're literally obese! You think you can be a ninja like that? As if!"

I droned out her rude words and focused on my task. A pale hand reached for my wrist—"Don't you _ignore_ me!"

In response, I took her wrist and threw her over my shoulder. I barely used my full strength, but I was surprised by how light the girl was. She hit the grass, wind knocked out of her. Fuki and blank-ki gasped and went to tell our teacher Suzume.

Next afternoon was spent in detention.

"Stuck here? I thought you were a good girl. What you in for?" Shikamaru drawled.

"Judo flipped a girl over my shoulder. Accidentally—it was _reflex_ ," I stressed. "How about you?"

He smirked, making his thin eyes appear slightly devious. "Sleepin' in class."

"Not very surprising!"

In the front of the room was a boy and a white puppy. He talked to his pup, ignoring us. _Should I talk to him?_

* * *

From the first day, my main priority was a certain boy. Maybe a year or two was left until the **end**. This boy was a greater asset as an ally than enemy. So I devoted my resources in securing him.

"Hi!" I waved in his face. "Name's Chouyo Akimichi! I wanna challenge you to an arm wrestle!"

Dark eyes stared at me in puzzlement. "What? I don't even know you?"

"True, but you're, like, the strongest clan in the Leaf? I wanna see it for myself! Unless... you scared you gonna get beat by a girl?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Bring it _on_."

Naturally being an Akimichi already meant above average physical energy. All throughout my youth, my family had coached me in strength-building exercises. He may have had a genius older brother, but I had more talent!

Tiny hands clasped together, the Uchiha boy leaned in his seat, his free hand gripped the table edge. We shared a look and it was game on!

Sasuke was tough indeed. He had luck and raw determination on his mind. His eyes burned, he smirked—which turned into a grimace the longer he pushed against my hand.

I struggled. I _struggled_... to not use my _full strength_. Man, I coulda broke his arm if I wanted to! Sasuke was six. He hadn't mastered any Fire Release techniques, hadn't gotten training from his papa too preoccupied with Itachi. Like my antics at Akimichi mealtimes, I made a great show of effort. Both our reddening arms with bulging veins trembled. In the corner of my eyes, I saw curious heads in our direction.

"You're really tough, huh?" I smirked.

Sasuke panted. "You're strong for a girl."

"Watch what you say—'cause I'm gonna kick your butt!" I pushed more power to tip Sasuke's arm away from the 50-50 zone into something more like 60-40 in my favor. "When I win, it's gonna be a 1-0!"

Sasuke tsked. "More like when _I_ win. Don't underestimate"—he pushed back harder—" _me_!"

With a haughty laugh, I pushed the back of Sasuke's hand on the table and whooped victoriously!

"You're strong! But not as strong as _me_ ," I teased, sticking out my tongue.

Sasuke cradled his still red hand. "Rematch! This wasn't my dominant hand, you know!"

"Sure! But we won't do that again!"

"That's what a rematch _is_ —"

"If you can do more pull-ups than me, you win!"

Competitive spirit ignited, Sasuke followed me to the practice gym and we began to do pull-ups.

I was strong... but... I underestimated my upper body strength! I had great cardio and could hold my own. Never had I done this many pull-ups.

Sasuke was on fire while I gasped for breath around 30 in. He eclipsed me. Two pull-ups to my meager half. Finally I gave up and fell on the ground. Sasuke followed.

"I won! I beat _you_!" He was grinning and it looked real sweet.

"It's a... a tie," gasped I, rubbing my burning arms. "Tie-... tiebreaker!"

From that point on, Sasuke and I competed almost every day, intending to one-up the other person. His Uchiha family in Iruka's class teased Sasuke about being the son of the leader and still losing to a girl. Pride hurt, the boy was _relentless_ to beat me for I was always in the lead in some shape or form.

Even Iruka and Mizuki talked to us several times about our rivalry, but they saw it could not be stopped so easily.

I arrived at school earlier than usual. Without thinking, I sat on the swingset, waiting for Shikamaru to saunter before me. As I waited, I ate fried meat. Somebody tapped my shoulder. "Mm?"

Surprised, I swallowed. My meat wasn't finished being chewed either.

"Ummm... hey... why you always provoking Sasuke like that? I don't get how somebody like you could be that cool..."

 _He's so awkward. Why is he so scared?_

He avoided my eyes and stuck to the trees' shadows, as if hoping the dark splotches could hide him. But I could see his blonde hair and whiskers as plain as day.

And the Killing Intent that drifted from him. _Vile_ and _wrong._ It reminded me of when I was five months old, wailing in _fear_.

"I'm sorry," he said weakly. "I-I'll leave..."

His back faced me. So little and frail. Bird-like.

I reached out and took his wrist before I knew it.

Sky blues stared at me.

* * *

AN: so basically a random idea that's 8000 words too long. still feel I shoulda made her a boy, but meh.


	2. chapter two

**the great academy trial | chapter two**

 _academy encounters_

.

 _ **almond orange salmon**_

 _packed with vitamins and omega-3s, this is a perfect brain food. good for studying sessions._

 _._

prep time: 30 minutes

cook time: 30 minutes

cuisine: american

* * *

His back faced me. So little and frail. Bird-like.

I reached out and took his wrist before I knew it. Sky blues stared at me. "Wha—?" he sputtered.

"You... startled me, is all," I said, forcing a laugh. "What—What did you say?"

I remembered what he said. I needed time to think. To calm.

"How can you challenge Sasuke like that...?" He started uncertain, but gained energy. "I mean, how can you beat him that easily? I try and lose and stuff, ch'no."

"Well... I'm from a Noble Clan." He gazed at me blankly. "You know: Hyuuga, Uchiha, Aburame, and Akimichi. My family's no slouch! I work when I get home, and results show!"

He nodded.

"If you wanna challenge Sasuke, you need to become strong as me! It's possible. Do you want me to teach you some stuff?"

His eyes glittered and my heart ached. "Yeah, ch'no! 'Cause I'm gonna be a great ninja! Please teach me!"

"Great!" I gave him a piece of chicken. "It's a deal! After my club is over, we can go to the gym and train, 'kay?"

His smile looked mischievous. I knew it was genuine.

I was probably more excited than Naruto! I could teach him genuine taijutsu now! If he fought Mizuki-sensei or Neji, he won't have to rely on clobbering the person by numbers. Kakashi was going to be his teacher and not teach him anything major for a long time. As I was going to be stuck in the next Ino-Shika-Chou trio, I wanted to make sure the blondie was well off!

Naruto and I marked off a time: every Friday, for an hour, we would go to the public gym and focus on training I did as a child. For once, I was the master and he was my pupil!

"I feel silly doing this," he told me once.

"It's _yoga_! It's great for the body!" I told him back!

"How's this helpful? I feel like barfing my snack back up, ch'no..."

Naruto and I were doing a move that involved the upper body propping up our lower body. In layman's terms, our legs and pointed toes were straight up in the air.

* * *

It was 38-37, in my favor.

" _Do it, do it_!" chanted from the crowd. Couldn't tell who they said it _to_ , so I imagined all the praise was for me. And that motivated me to punch a pair of soft cheeks.

He turned his head in the punch's direction and staggered a bit. I started to close in on him, but found myself careening backwards to avoid a back kick. He kicked like a viper—a lightning fast kick and recoil. I couldn't grab his leg to throw him off balance.

Like that, there was hesitation in our fight as we slowly circled the other. Mama had told me that something like this happened to intimidate the opponent.

Looking at his bruised appearance only called to attention my own aches and cuts.

"Come on! You can do it!" shouted some more children from the crowd, again not being specific.

Grinning, I replied, "Thank you!"

"Not _you_ ," snapped a violet-haired girl. "I'm talking about _Sasuke_!"

"Well, maybe you shoulda said his name." The words tumbled out before I knew it; the crowd made a teasing _oooooh_.

I guess having enough, Sasuke charged me, hands balled into fists. I couldn't tell if he wanted to punch or kick—he's very mercurial like that. And he's also inexperienced. At least with experts, I could just _interpret_ their next moves. Fighting Sasuke was like eating an unknown dish blind and tasting different, unexpected flavors every time I brought the broth to my mouth.

I prepared to dodge. I'd grown tired of tanking hits. It still _hurt_. (Videogames are all like: "Block takes off 50% of a person's full damage", but they don't understand that it still really hurts as if I actually got hit with the full damage). I stood on the balls of my feet and put all my energy into my legs to dart out of danger. For show, I brought my bandaged fists to my face.

Sasuke slowed and swung his leg out in a roundhouse kick. I dodged to the side of the leg he kicked with. He had to look over his shoulder to see me, now out of his kicking range.

Before he could back kick me, I crashed the heel of my palm into the side of his back.

Sasuke was amazing. But he's a boy. He wasn't used to the pain and crumpled. On his knees, I ended the battle by capturing him in a weak choke hold.

"The spar is over! Let go, Akimichi."

Mizuki-sensei stepped in and tugged me away. He didn't even give me a chance to let go. He held my wrist in a tight grasp while Iruka-sensei looked over Sasuke (who was stubbornly saying he wasn't in pain at all!).

The crowd was a 50/50 split between cheers and boos for me. That was okay! I saw Ino whooping for me and Shikamaru nodding, so I was proud.

"Settle down," Mizuki-sensei monotoned over the crowd. "The Akimichi and the Uchiha will now make the Seal of Union. As we recall from sparring etiquette, _honor_ your combatant."

Sasuke and I had two sore, heated fingers clenched together tightly, as a sort of handshake. He was black and blue on top of his usual black and blue, and I smiled at the sight, wondering if I looked just as bad.

"39-37, huh," I teased. "You're slacking off, Sasuke."

He was scowling deeply, yet his lips quirked upwards. "Next time. I don't tolerate losing, _Akimichi_."

We let go. Sasuke retreated to the crowd of his judgmental family members and I headed to Ino's side, who's already trying to nurse a few of my bruises with glacial-cold wet medical-wipes plus ointment. Apparently I had a lot of face wounds.

"Great job, Chouyo! You get faster and faster every time! You're so controlled and deliberate. But if you could just stop messing around, you wouldn't walk away so injured," she chided.

"But... it's funner that way."

"Yeah, well, it's not really _safer_ , yanno."

"Eh!" I was contented and grinned.

Behind me, I heard the rude whisperings of Ami and her posse. I did not waste brain power focusing on her words. I did, though, tune out the world for a moment to hear: "Ino Yamanaka." It was Mizuki-sensei. He'd been talking to Ami, who smirked at his side.

Ino went pale; she closed her wipes, snapped shut her ointment, rubbed her hands off on a napkin. The little blondie gave me a nervous smile and stepped to the center of the field.

I blinked—"Ami picked Ino?" That's how I of all people managed to get a fight against Sasuke. It's also the reason why Naruto always got stuck with me.

"Ino's gonna lose," Shikamaru commented with a ghost of a smile, appearing at my side despite him loitering near the edge of the crowd.

"Have some faith!" I nudged him and cupped my hands around my mouth: " _Go, Ino! There's an O in 'go'_!"

Ino looked at me with furrowed brows as she made the Seal of Confrontation, the respectable way to initiate a spar.

"What's that even mean?" said the Nara next to me.

"It's motivational! It doesn't have to make sense!"

"Uh... I beg to differ—"

I shushed him when Ino and Ami began to fight. Taijutsu wasn't Ino's thing. Smarts and beauty—that was my Ino. I wasn't a master to criticize techniques, but I saw how clunky and slow Ino was compared to the catlike reflexes of Ami. And when the violet-haired vixen slid past Ino's punch and shoved her index finger in Ino's side, I _felt_ the pain on Ino's face.

Three more precise hits after that, Ino was totalled.

It was no surprise that Ami was the best kunoichi in class, until Sakura gained confidence. She had the smarts, had the kunoichi knowledge, and when she fought she used pressure points. When she sparred against me, all she needed was to keep dodging and wait until my slowly fatiguing body made a mistake. She would swoop in, hit me, and make me weaker for her next attack. I figured she was especially brutal to me when I caught her off-guard and judo-flipped her.

Ami laughed at Ino's watery eyes and face turning a red hue. I don't like being a mean person... but I _really_ wanted to punch Ami at least once!

Ino left after the sparring period was over. In the two months since the beginning of the Ninja Academy, we weren't close friends, or even best friends—as being "best friends" meant more than just being friendly to each other—so it wasn't _that_ odd sitting by myself in silence as class continued on.

In fact, the absence of her warmth led me to think of my Chouji, who sat at home learning cooking lessons from our mama plus taking cardio and yoga.

" _Being a ninja is a great honor_ ," I told him one night. I was peering at him in the dimness, with only a maroon paper lantern above our heads. It spun no faster than a snail. It was comforting and distracting and helped me fall asleep. " _It's not all knives and violence, Joji_."

" _Maybe later. Don't wanna talk 'bout that. G'night, Joyo._ " His voice was tiny and grumpy. He buried himself deeper in his thick, scarlet duvet and giant pillow in the shape of a fish cake.

Hearing his clipped tone made me meek. I _certainly_ didn't want to be the one to make him upset! I didn't want my brother to think of me as a nuisance! Yet I really really really wanted to convince him to be a ninja!

It was hard to bite my tongue. I sunk deeper into my padded bed that reminded me of my old bed in the Olden World and wrapped my arms around my stuffed caterpillar toy. I watched the spinning lantern until everything turned into a dream forgotten.

"Chouyo," was Mizuki-sensei's voice laced in annoyance, "you _did_ read the _Ninja's Guide to Basic Ninja Vocabulary_ , hm?"

I jerked in my seat, glancing at the book as thick as a dictionary. "I wanted to! But I got distracted..."

I made it to the B section, where there were terms such as _banzai salute_ and _bonfire escape_ before the lure of the outside world distracted me.

The silver-haired man wasn't pleased by the way he sucked in a cheek and narrowed his eyes. "Keep this nonsense up and you'll _fail_ , Akimichi. A Noble Clan means nothing if its successors are you."

The class went _ooooh_. I didn't need to hear my name to know it was directed at me. I rested my chin on my desk, not daring to look at Shikamaru, Sasuke, or Naruto.

"Mizuki-sensei, no need to be so strict," Iruka-sensei said. I felt a large hand messing up my burgundy spikes. "The children are _six_."

"And yet, these children want to become assets of the Leaf, representatives of our teaching..."

"Yes, but—can't we test them a bit later? Let's not make the children hate the Academy..."

Ah, the power struggle. Iruka-sensei lost often. Though he was the head teacher, his aide had more of an influence.

With Mizuki-sensei, he didn't blow up in your face if you did something wrong. He was like a cold fire. Even so, he was pretty calm most of the time.

Which only _baffled_ me as to why Mizuki-sensei wanted to betray the Leaf using Naruto, to the point where he was okay with _murdering his friend._

Mizuki tapped the board with his pink chalk. On the smokey, black surface, he wrote a title and bullet points and neat, angular handwriting. "Contrary to popular belief, shinobi can _not_ do whatever they please. They all have an etiquette to follow..."

40 agonizing minutes went by. The bell rung to signal our break period of 5 minutes, in which most kids shot up from their seats and began talking. The loners slept or got ahead on their studies. I didn't have Ino and Shikamaru was knocked out, so I decided to stay at my desk and force myself through _Ninja's Guide to Basic Ninja Vocabulary._ Then I heard my name being beckoned by Iruka-sensei, who stood in the doorframe. I shut the book fast and ran to his side.

He walked out into the quiet hallway and said, "You've got real talent, Chouyo. You're the best first year at sparring. So I was wondering if you liked to spar competitively."

"Huh?" I tilted my head to the side because I'd _never_ heard anything about Academy competitions.

"There's a club—Competitive Sparring. They go to contests in a tournament style. First it's Land of Fire regionals, then area, then country, and finally globally—that's when you can compete against children from other countries! Land of Water... Land of Wind..."

My heart soared. Everything about this was so unknown, so fascinating! And, heck, I'd love to fight against children from different countries too! "Sounds _awesome_! I wanna join, pretty please?"

"You're more than likely going to get accepted," Iruka-sensei said and smiled with closed eyes. "Try outs are next month. I know it'll be June and really hot _and_ it's during summer break, but I know you'll persevere!"

"Thank you, Sensei!" Without thinking, I crushed him into a hug and spent the rest of my day thinking about Competitive Sparring.

"Mama, Mama, what's Competitive Sparring in Academy?" I said as I swung on her arm holding me off the ground.

"Ah, that's a club boys used to attend in Papa's days," she said, a bit wistful. "They enjoyed showing off for girls and spending time out of home. A few Hyuuga carried the team to country a few times. I don't remember the Land of Fire ever winning." She grinned at me, pearly whites more foxish than elated. "Does my little Joyo want to join?"

"Uh-huh!" I nodded.

"Be on the look out, then! I don't think boys will be _too_ happy with a girl on their team! Boys are weird like that—you'll understand them when you're older."

Oh trust me, as an adult I still didn't understand boys completely.

"If this'll make you happy,"—Mama grinned wide, reminding me of Naruto—"I'll become your number one fan!"

I giggled. "Alright!"

* * *

AN: ahh, i have no idea where this idea is going, but here's more?


	3. chapter three

**the great academy trial | chapter three**

 _competitive sparring_

.

 _ **grilled kefir chicken**_

 _a popular post workout snack packed with protein to encourage muscle development._

 _._

prep time: 2 minutes

cook time: 12 minutes

cuisine: american

* * *

It wasn't just hot. It was death.

Honestly, there was a whole lot of Chouyo here, and this Chouyo didn't do well in the heat!

I waved my mountain-painted fan more furiously as I tread on. At this point, it was blowing nothing but hot air at my body. Even so, breeze was better than marinating in the still summer heat.

My destination was the Academy and when I got there, a few children were gathered about. Even though we were on summer break until September, these ninja-in-training couldn't escape the lure of the school. And so couldn't I!

I won't say I was the biggest fan of school. All the new ninja stuff was _awesome_ , the Kunoichi Class wasn't too shabby, the view was way more interesting. But the academics were some of the stuff I knew, some misinterpreted stuff because this world wasn't as advanced, and some arbitrary ninja or chakra things that just complicated everything. Coupled with the fact that no matter what I did, I'd be stuck on the next Ino-Shika-Chou trio, outside of the whole top ninja and dead last combo.

It genuinely baffled me how so many kids could come here without being told to do so.

 _And you, Chouyo? Don't reckon you never thought your life could become like this, eh?_

 _Being a ninja after I died? Nope, certainly, no!_

After my awe died down, I hurried off to the gym. There was one large gym suited for any purpose. Behind that gym, there were a myriad of minor buildings for one or two purposes. They were dubbed indoor training rooms—perfect for summer. I ran to the one I was supposed to enter and opened the door.

The room looked exactly like a dojo. In fact, it should be called a dojo and not that long, complicated name. The wood was a kind of golden brown, the brown that looked less brown and boring and more dynamic and picturesque. On the walls were beautiful calligraphy all spelling out motivational quotes and lovely hand-painted portraits that were probably more expensive than both my lives.

I was kinda bummed out I'd have to waste four hours away from my family (especially Chouji's cooking!), but I could get used to this beauty—

" _Chouyo_ ," is an exasperated voice warbled from laughter.

Iruka-sensei smiled so kindly to me. He didn't seem at all like the man who lost his parents six years ago. Well... that wasn't to say that event defined who Iruka Umino was.

I had to hug him tightly!

"Iruka-sensei! I'm here!"

Iruka-sensei still hesitated to hug me back. "Ah, Chouyo... you have to get dressed in your clothes."

"Dressed?" I let go.

"We have a uniform here. Ah... er, here?" He handed me white clothes folded into a beautiful square. "Let me know how it fits on you, okay?"

"Understooood!"

I took it to the backroom and entered the changing room for girls. The place was a locker room, nothing more. It was clean. Empty. Didn't smell like sweat and socks. I got dressed alone and found out this was what martial artists wear!

A white top? White bottoms? A small black belt to keep this loose, featherweight attire from falling down? I felt awesome-r!

The fit was perfect for martial artists. Any tailor would flip and say it was way too loose. I bounced out the room where Iruka-sensei was waiting. "Is it fine?"

"Yup! Thank you, Sensei!"

He urged me to follow. "Come along, let's begin."

Maybe I wasn't really fast at getting changed, because the dojo now had dozens of kids there. Dozens of _boys_. As soon as they saw me and didn't smile, I knew something was about to go wrong.

"Iruka-sensei, who's this exactly?" shouted one of the older boys, sizing me up.

"This is Chouyo Akimichi. She's here to spar with you all," Iruka-sensei said patiently.

I bowed once he stole my thunder—introduced me.

Rather than _oooh_ s or _ahhhh_ s, I got confused grumbling.

"Sensei, you're too hopeful," the same boy said. "Akimichi are kind and stuff. She can't last long like this."

He wasn't wrong. We were all gentle giants in a way...

I stood next to the crowd. Everyone stayed away from me. I was used to something like this. It didn't bother me. 'Cause I would prove myself one way or another.

"Good morning, I am glad you took the time to come here today," Iruka-sensei said to us all. "From Wednesday to Friday, we will be hosting tryouts. Everyday, a new teacher will judge your spars so that you will have three chances against three different opponents among a length of time. So don't panic—this isn't a one shot.

"Only the best 8 scores can move on to Competitive Sparring officially. There are 32 here today. So, everyone, let's do our best!"

"Right, Sensei!" we replied in unison.

Names were written down and thrown into a bag. Iruka-sensei selected two at a time, and then the human boys connected to those names would spar. The fights were interesting. It wasn't just first-years fighting. They were from many different years, which kinda meant some were more advantaged than others.

I get why this took three days.

"Chouyo Akimichi versus Kanata!" cried Iruka-sensei.

My heart swelled from excitement. I raced onto the "stage", an area of the dojo sectioned off by Iruka-sensei. I let out a laugh and wondered who my opponent was, if this "Kanata" was here.

There was a tall, lanky boy slowly trodding his way over to the opposite end of me. He was twice as long as I and lacked even the tiniest amount of fat. His uniform was too baggy and loose on him. He finally made it to his destination and, after exhaling, he turned to look at me.

His dark blue eyes were so dull! Not even the light could shine in them.

"Looks like I'll be fighting the girl," he drawled. "Isn't this a strange world...?"

"Huh?" I said, not quite following his trail of thought.

Closing his eyes, he hunched up his shoulders. "Pops said that no matter who I faced, I should defeat them. How else will I be able to make the competitive sparing team like he did?"

"O-Oh!" I gulped. "Well... no matter what happens, I represent the Akimichi Clan. We're a _Noble Clan_ for a reason, so don't you underestimate me!"

I pointed too high. Lowering it to see, Kanata continued gazing at me without much emotion. After a moment of my posing, he fully faced me and lowered slightly into his fighting stance.

"Ugh," he huffed, "you're going to be a spirited one."

Iruka-sensei, content we both seemed ready, began his counting. "3... 2... 1... begin!"

I was the one who dashed and closed the distance. Up and close, my head barely touched his waist. After punching a few times, I noticed something immediately: Kanata was light on his feet. That boy could go airborne instantaneously whether it was with two feet or just a pinkie toe.

I tried to punch and kick using all the speed I could generate, but it wasn't enough. Kanata never needed to block me, he simply pranced out of the way.

Instead of chasing him after he cartwheeled away, I panted and thought hard.

What to do, Chouyo? Keep up the plan of attack and hope he slips up? Nah, he had way more experience. I would slip up long before he would. What if I fought _with_ him? Because, any fighter would see what they're doing wasn't working and so they should change—that was what fighting against someone implied. If I could just fight like how he wanted, I could use that against him...

I punched my fist into my palm. "Energy recovered! Let's go!"

I dashed toward him, going faster than I expected. His jaw dropped momentarily, before jumping to the side of my fist. He was behind me. I pirouetted and looked long enough to see he wasn't attacking me. Two fists were ready—one punched high up. Kanata slid out the way. The second came from the left, brushing the fabric of his belt before the boy jumped away.

I felt intuitively like he had just cost himself the match. It made me grin harder.

I sprinted to close the gap. Kanata didn't look worried. He tensed his leg, then a flesh-color mass flew before my eyes. My head lurched back and made me fall over. My cheek stung.

Kanata used my moment of confusion, to bring his leg up and to send his heel crashing toward my face.

 _Block? Dodge?_

I'd fail miserably with a block, so I dodged it the only possible way: closing the distance. His kick was out of range and he had only one foot on the ground. For most, that would disadvantageous. Kanata was way too balanced on his feet for _that_ to be the matter.

 _You're going to jump away, aren't you, bunny?_

I aimed lefty at his knee still supporting the kick.

He jumped away.

I was prepared. I too jumped.

And, after a quick twirl, landed a hit with righty into his gut.

Kanata grunted and backflipped further away from me, covering too much ground for me to keep up. His brows were lightly furrowed on his otherwise unchanged face since the beginning.

"Did that hurt, bunny? I'm glad! That kick of yours hurt, too!" I laughed as I caught my breath.

"You too? Why does everyone call me 'bunny'?" He murmured out loud. "Aren't bunnies cuter than me...?"

I... could only blink.

"That hit kinda hurt, though," he continued. "I'm surprised. However... that won't decide that match, you know. I've barely gotten started."

I ran to the boy, physical energy burning in my body. Daring me to use my Akimichi Art. If I could just enlarge my arm, I could reach him no sweat. After all, Akimichi weren't made to sprint like this.

Kanata crouched and swung a knife hand at me. Startled, I pulled back my fist so that our hits attacked one another. It hurt! He's stronger than he looks! But could he really beat me in hand-to-hand? I wanted to see!

Lefty and righty whipped into action as blurs. Kanata wasn't fazed. His knife hands intercepted my hits and pushed them away from their prior targets on his body. My fists were starting to go numb and lose intensity. But Kanata's strikes remained consistent, as though he were just striking wet noodles repeatedly.

Righty moved too slow. Kanata grabbed it and pulled so hard, I stumbled forward. The crook shoved righty behind me and pressed it on my back, knuckles causing pain against my rib cage. As long as he held onto me, I could not escape and he was out of range for lefty. Instinctual tears formed in my eyes, an insult to injury, blurring the colors of the dojo.

And then Kanata punched my back in a perfect spot that could only rival Hyuuga. It was a _tenketsu_ hotspot. No, he didn't block my chakra, but the area was such a sensitive place, a direct hit would hurt more here than other areas of the body. It was such a small area, too. It had the width of a pin tip.

My legs went weak on me as I couldn't stop my pained cry.

Kanata kicked me, I flew forwards.

My body still wasn't responding to me. His hit stunned my body. I crashed ungracefully to the ground, fall a little cushioned by my fat. I was on all fours trying to get up, only to find my attempts irritating the kick's pain further.

 _Come on, now! We can't lose! Sure we have 2 more chances, but do you think the top 8 scores will allow a loss? No!_

I stood. Rubbed my cheek that I fell on.

The spectators sure had a lot to say despite not being in battle.

"What's she doing back up? She's not supposed to be able to feel her legs right now?"

"Maybe it didn't work as well because she's so fat? _Ah_ , you'd think that slow her down."

"Well, what can she do? She can't use her Akimichi Art because no one can use chakra of any kind in these matches."

" _Hummm_... I dunno who's more of the underdog—Kanata has tried out twice and failed to make the team. Meanwhile this is the Akimichi's first chance."

Kanata eyed me down as they spoke rapid-fire. In his head, he was going to be victorious. It was a matter of time before I lost.

But no, my gut said that he would lose this match. Was it wrong?

My heart fluttered thinking about losing. Biting my lip resolutely, I sprinted to him once again.

I was practically leaping myself to punch him. My range was smaller than his, shorter than his, less experienced—

Kanata followed the momentum of my punch, turned with it, while I could do nothing but watch myself fall into his trap. I was sure my eyes were wide as saucers as he took my punch with almost no resistance.

Of course, with him leading, Kanata's knife hand had a clear line of sight. As it neared, I realized it was my chest.

The blow left me coughing and reeling, body instinctively forgetting about the fight to ensure I breathed. Tears broke out in my eyes despite my anger. He let me stumble backwards until I fell onto my rear-end.

"You're defenseless." Kanata relaxed his stance and simply gazed at me as if watching the moon glow. "I could pin you, but it'd be easier for you to admit your loss."

I _couldn't_ reply; I was still gasping for breath. As much as I wanted to ignore my lungs' desire for breath and fight, I kinda needed the oxygen to keep moving.

I said nothing, but Kanata's mouth turned down, displeased. "It's mature to know when to pull back. Any general would tell you such."

"Have..." I coughed. "Prove... self..."

"Aren't you 6? There's really no rush, you know."

It had hurt to breathe. My heart thudded, like it were a parade marching, cheering me on.

I ran.

As always, Kanata waited for me to cross the distance.

The match was like a Groundhogs Day loop.

 _He'll knock me down over and over and over again..._

I couldn't allow such depressing thoughts!

A sudden burst of energy flowed through my body. Almost impulsively, I turned hard on my right heel, redirected the straight shot to his body into a curve around it.

His fighting stance wavered.

I was staring at his back, saw his collar that slouched down too low and exposed his bony vertebrae. It was just in the process of swiveling its owner's head.

In one breath, I punched his back. It _connected_.

By then, he was spinning to face me, intending for a good hit to send me flying.

I ducked down fast. A burst of pain traveled through my thighs. I ignore it. All it mattered was _this_.

My punches were a quick flurry aimed at his knees. Kanata stuck for my head—what would've been my head had I not crouched. Since he was so busy trying to punch me, he had remained on the ground. He could not jump away and I made sure he stayed put.

The boy dropped to his knees awkwardly, still attempting to run away.

A shout rung out. It was a desperate cry. The noise of a fighter giving it his all, just for one final hit. Nothing else mattered to him. The fight would only be over once he gave up every ounce of his being.

My knuckles ached as soon as I touched his skull. I thought I had gotten used to punching, but I was dead wrong. His hair was soft, fluffy—a harsh contrast to the painful jerk and sound his head made.

He swung out blindly behind him, hand moving faster than I had ever seen. Awkward and instinctual. I couldn't even think a proper thought before my neck was surrounded by warm muscle squeezing it.

Not even a cough escaped my lips. It was a complete suffocation that scared me so badly, I signed the common _surrender_ seal.

Blackness obscured my vision and memories.

Coughing. I was coughing. Gasping.

"—ok at me—Chouyo— _Chouyo_ —"

Iruka-sensei's pleasant, dark eyes met mine. It did not suit the worry on his face, nor that it was directed at me.

My hand drifted to my throat, remembering something that my brain couldn't. "Sensei..." What should I say first?

"It's fine, you don't have to work so hard, please rest."

"Eh...?"

"It was a choke hold, although Kanata was a bit too forceful," Iruka-sensei explained, shooting a chiding look to someone behind me. "You only fainted momentarily. Do you need to see the nurse?"

"Huh? No..."

Fainted in battle? Obviously, I wasn't in battle. By his words, it sounded like it was over.

 _I lost?_

I did want to say that. But the words got stuck somewhere between my thoughts and the sudden pain in my throat.

"Er... you did lose, however you were amazing, Chouyo! I'd seen plenty of first-years battle on the floor and let their nerves get to them. You kept your cool and thrived. I'm proud of you."

His former expression was replaced with a happy smile that suited him so much better.

It was nice to see, but...

It didn't make this pain hurt any less.

The boys eyed me and spoke more quietly. I couldn't read their expressions, couldn't hear their gossip. Kanata met my eyes and just shrugged.

Well, defeat didn't call for a big celebration.

* * *

AN: legit watched mma highlights and three martial arts movies for this fight scene. What did you like? Hate? What could be improved on? This might be action based, so that action needs to be good.


	4. chapter four

**the great academy trial | chapter four**

 _spirit_

.

 _ **baked alaska flambé**_

 _enjoy three versions of ice cream and meringue topping on a chocolate, spongy cake. also, it gets set on fire._

 _._

prep time: 13 days

cook time: 12 hours

cuisine: french american

* * *

Chouji opened the door, eyes downturned. He saw the familiar shape of my chubby toes and looked up quickly. His eyes widened. "Chouyo! You're here!"

Mama probably heard him. I really wanted to get inside before I ran into her. Maybe if I were actually six, I'd run crying to her. But I could solve _this_ on my own—this general heaviness throughout me.

I brushed past Choujo and shot to my bathroom. I ran hot water and waited for the bath to fill up, just as I had seen Mama do for me. I needed the break bathing gave me. If I had just gone into my room, she'd pop her head in and bug me, no doubt.

I sat in the tub without rinsing, watching as this new body could displace the water so much, it almost splashed onto the floor. With bath salts, the water took on a milky green color. It made the experience all the more exotic.

It looked like green apple candy.

Thinking to myself, I ate some water.

I soon spit it out—it didn't taste like green apple! I probably just ate some sweat and dead skin too! Yucky!

I submerged my head underwater til it reached my nose, then sighed. Though the bubbles were kind of cool, it didn't do much for the heaviness.

 _Man, Chouyo, you're such a baby. Failure happens all the time—you've done nothing but fail billions of times. Remember when you accidentally walked into the boys bathroom?_

It was silly to be so distraught about something I never knew til now. But I did have a lot to lose. I was the only girl who tried out. The only fat girl. Nobody really expected for me to go far. Which bit the most.

A energy burst through me. Before I knew it, I had smacked the water's surface, sending a wave of water crashing onto the floor, and sat up proudly.

 _I'll show them_ , I vowed with a wicked grin.

Content, I get out the tub.

I wake up early the next morning, having skipped dinner late night snacking. My stomach was howling and aching as I smelled the food Mama and Papa were cooking.

Being an Akimichi meant there were tons of side dishes and even side dishes _to_ side dishes. As a result, our kitchen was the biggest room in our house, with the sink having a depth comparable to our tub.

Mama worked on the food that required little attention to make. She went around from pot, pan, and wok with a glance and a stir. Papa focused his time on a single dish and waited for them to fully finish before moving on. When they combine their powers, they always create amazingly tasteful masterpieces.

"Chouyo, good morning," Mama said to me over her shoulder. "Are you hungry?"

My stomach growled before I could reply. I laughed.

"Good then! Would you like to help? I'll let you steal a few bites!"

How could I say no?

Eventually Chouji walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He probably followed the smell than using his eyes!

"Aren't you late?" I teased, sticking a tongue out. "We're almost done!"

He didn't react. No, he did, but it wasn't typical. He frowned at me, saying, "Are you alright?"

"Huh?" Mama and Papa were preoccupied, so I walked over to him with my sauce covered spoon.

"Are you okay? We didn't really talk..."

"Oh!"

I had a lot running through my mind yesterday. Plus, it was way too weird to rely on a little kid when I myself was far older. Of course he'd be worried—kids my age shouldn't have this capability.

"I'm totally fine, Joji, don't worry!" He relaxed slightly at the sound of his nickname. "Here, here! Enjoy the morning! And do you know what Mama's cooking? I'll give you three guesses...!"

Chouji looked at me blankly. "Salty fried wrapped eggs with chestnut sauce made by Papa. I know."

I couldn't reply for a few seconds. Finally, I muttered, "A-Ah, you've changed! How'd you know?"

"What else can I do while you're in school?" Chouji put the spoon in his mouth and smiled. "This is good!"

We eat breakfast together as usual and wash off the billions of dishes afterwards. We move slowly, with our massive bellies full.

"I have to get ready to go," I said, drying my wrinkled hands off. "I have a big day."

"Big day?" Chouji echoed.

"Good luck, Joyo," Papa said, smiling with closed eyes like a giant teddy bear.

"Eh?" Mama looked at him, then at me without smiling.

 _She knows_. I nervously laughed. "Well! I lost my first match and I might lose the next match, but all I care about is _next year_." I said that mischievously.

"What's next year?" Papa said easily, missing Mama's suspicious look.

"I'm going to show them all next year, but it's a big secret! If I tell you guys, then you'll expect it!"

"Ah, I see," Papa said, smiling wider despite the baffled faces of Mama and Chouji. "Good luck."

Mama hit his stomach. "Chouza. It's fine when she acts out with us because we're family and we have to deal with her." She paused and flashed me an apologetic look. "If she causes a ruckus outside, she won't be responsible for the consequences."

"I understand," I said, trying to lower my girly voice to something more serious sounding. It's an effort—little girls aren't made to sound so professional with our slight baby accent and still learning Japanese. "Outside, I'm _Akimichi Chouyo_. Inside, I'm just Chouyo. No matter what I do, I represent the Akimichi Clan. Which is why... I've prepared this plan, Mama!"

Mama flushed. She looked at Papa who happily scrubbed at a pan and flung soap suds, at Chouji who wanted to scold me. She sighed.

"No matter what, I'll support you, Chouyo. You're my precious treasure. I just wish _Papa_ would be more proactive..."

Papa was undeterred. "She is free to make any decision she wants. She is still very young. At this age, no-one expects for her to be flawless."

"Still... we're trying to make her better. If she makes any enemies—"

"It will be a learning experience," Papa concluded.

Mama began to pout deeply. I dash from the kitchen to escape the tension, hoping it all sort itself out.

The second day of Competitive Sparring begins similarly. The boys ignored me, probably hoping their rudeness would eventually get me to leave. Which is why it made me stay even longer! How could I just let them scare me off?

The fights, though, made me uneasy.

Yesterday, I was a bit too excited and didn't pay the utmost attention. Today, I paid attention.

There were some fights were I knew the two fighters had history. They synched up with one another, almost predicting the other's next moves. Only a surprise could determine the match. When those happened, everyone in the room were screaming their heads off in amazement.

Then there were the fights reeking of honor. The fighters probably didn't know one another well, and so they looked desperate to read their opponents. There were hesitations, feints, anything to get a feel of their opponent. Those ended up as bloody or painful.

One kid got a black eye. Another bit his lip so bad, blood poured down his chin and puddled on the floor. Another twisted his wrist and kept fighting until he won.

The room was solemn after those aftermaths, but each competitor received a clap on the back or a friendly nudge.

 _Reminds me of football or wrestling..._

"Chouyo Akimichi versus..." Iruka-sensei hesitated reading the next card. "Versus Jun!"

And then my heart did a somersault.

Gently slipping through the crowd was a thin boy with a bowl haircut. The dome peeked over his face and shadowed his eyes, only revealing a small frown and a tiny, red nose.

I skipped to the "stage" still sizing him up. The uniform fit him perfectly, almost as if it were altered to not drown his slender body in excess fabric.

Then Jun raised his fists. They were bandaged and covered in dried blood that had seeped through the white fabric and now stained it with dark patches of brown. His fingers trembled slightly.

Jun's feet didn't look much different. There was dried blood and dirt and bright pink scratches on them. His toenails were haphazardly broken and damaged.

 _Isn't he a little hardcore, Chouyo?_

I still smiled, even as I broke into cold sweat.

"Um..." Iruka-sensei shook his head, aborting his sentence. "Begin in 3... 2... 1!"

I was giving him an odd look, so I didn't react in time. I turned to Jun, preparing to sprint—

He seemed to cover the distance for me.

He ran to me on all fours, flawlessly mimicking a cheetah. He stayed so low to the ground, he came up to my knees. Easy to kick. I was just about to once he was close enough.

 _Until_ he dug his feet onto the wooden floor and forced himself to stand, cutting through the air hard enough to make a noise. With his fingers curled down, his palm was heading towards my face—so close enough to see bruises and faded scars.

Amazed more than anything, I dodged the hit. Watched it slide past my face until it stopped. Jun's elbow came up to my eyes.

It _moved_.

 _Oh! Oh no!_

Making an X with my arm, I blocked his elbow. My forearms stung. Jun pulled away, not following up on an attack. I hesitated to watch, which gave him plenty enough time to spin— _His hands are too blurry, what's he doing?_ —and drive his palm with curled fingers into my cheek.

As the attack whipped my head to the side and sent my body following, I vaguely registered the way my cheek heats up in the exact imprint of his hand. I knew it was a human hand. But why did it feel not like bone and flesh, but something unbreakable like metal?

At any rate, I fell onto the floor. My teeth ached, my mouth didn't want to open lest more pain occurs.

I sat and rubbed my throbbing cheek. Jun didn't move at all. He watched me under his hair.

I couldn't read him at all. I didn't know what to do. Without chakra, I was kind of limited to punchy-punchy and running with minor variations.

 _We can figure this out, Chouyo,_ I promised myself.

Springing to my feet, I aimed a fist and dashed. A powerful yell burst from me, which echoed across the room but did not startle Jun. As I got closer, he did not attempt to do anything to thwart me.

 _Good, if he moves too slow, I'll punish him. But, if this is a trap and he moves fast enough..._

His hands were snakes. Their mouths clung to my wrist and arm. The person connected to those snakes turned, crouched, and flung me over his shoulder.

For the second time that day, I found myself colliding painfully on the ground. This time, I was back first. My skull rocked against the floor, blinding me temporarily. My breath eluded me. Above, Jun stood.

He let go of me and stared. And because he had to look down, a gap formed between his hair and face. Once getting past his thick eyebrows, I saw his eyes.

They were dark and wild.

His pupils were as constricted as cats.

They were a bluish kind of purple and dangerous.

 _Just what kind of a person am I fighting?_

The shadows made from being in front of the light made him look even more hellish.

 _Should I just call it quits? He's way out of my level._

"...aren't you kinda scary," I murmured to myself. Jun didn't react. "Nothing? I know you can hear me. I know you can see. So why don't you speak?"

Zilch.

I pouted. "What a weird person. It's great you're fantastic at this, but is this all you do? Don't you know all work and no play makes Jun a dull boy?"

Jun made a sound or a grunt. He tilted his head slightly.

I had surprised him. I won't waste it.

The hand he had let go (that dropped painfully on the ground! ouch!) was close to his foot. I grabbed at it, then flopped over so my other hand grabbed it, too.

Jun didn't dare to walk, but began kicking me. I kept my face to the floor and ducked my chin down, so his feet wouldn't kick my eyes, neck, or chest. That left the back of my head open, which Jun almost exclusively kicked at. It was hard to see with barely any light and ever harder when my vision flickered in and out.

The pain muffled noises. I could only go off of vibrations, which seemed to shake my body more than sea sickness. Still, I held onto his legs and shuffled. Felt like forever before I could hook myself around his leg and, with a kick to his knee, make _him_ fall.

Jun was trying to rise quickly, not caring if his feet hit me or not. Though he fought against a short girl, this Akimichi was heavy for her age. He could not get up with practically a boulder stuck to his leg.

Of course, Jun wouldn't have to worry about me for long. If I didn't do something, I was going to collapse from fatigue. I've never done a hold on someone so unwilling! 'Specially not after I saw stars!

It was everything I could do to turn his body around. He fought and fought me without exhaustion. Eventually, his strikes became nothing more than reminders to hurry up. Jun had been rolled over and now I sat on his back and pulled his leg with me.

I pulled it awkwardly, to work against his natural flexibility. Jun sucked in a breath in pain.

During the scuffle, my bows were gone. A wild, spiky mane flooded my vision and made me feel every bit as wild as an animal. In my giddiness, I reached behind me and took hold of Jun's hair, pulling that to my body.

 _Now,_ Jun made a cry of pain.

His body was being forced to contort to an unnatural position!

And if I were as light as a dove, he could just roll me off. He probably wouldn't be in as much pain.

He could have—

" _Ah_!"

That was my own girly scream cut short as something heavy knocked into the side of my face. _His hand_. I didn't pin his hands. And I paid for it.

The hit was so severe, the sound my left ear heard vanished and was replaced with emptiness. My body went limp as if I were unconscious but _I wasn't_. As I began to fall, Jun, freed, got to his knees and pushed me off.

As I fell, Jun's fist came close to my face and obscured my vision.

* * *

AN: what, there's mooore?


	5. chapter five

**the great academy trial | chapter five**

 _an inspiration_

.

 _ **deep fried mint cookies**_

 _a frosty, peppermint cookie with a deep fried spin. serves to wake you up and counteract the coolness of mint._

 _._

prep time: 20 min

cook time: 40 min

cuisine:american

* * *

My nose burned harder than my face. It had taken on a very scarlet color, which I sometimes saw whenever the nurse removed the tissue and cleaned away any dried up blood.

"It looks like it's healing quite nicely," she commented, which was a good sign. The nurse excelled more in healing broken bones or unconscious students, but she was still able to fix my broken nose and do something about the bleeding. Sadly, all she could do besides that was numb the pain I felt practically every else on my body.

 _I ended up okay, though! All I got was a broken nose!_

I still had to get out the cushion-y bed and walk to the dojo all by myself. My uniform was blood stained and dirty. Gross and sweaty. Reeked of the smell of medicine and sterilization. It was a trial to enter the empty dojo, to carry myself to the locker room, and to put on my old clothes.

The sage dress revealed a lot more than the uniform. Faint blueish-purple splotches decorated my arms and legs like I was trying to be a cheetah for Halloween. My nose was bandaged tight with a bright white gauze, leading me to breath out my nose. A few places were swollen. Honestly, I was only able to move thanks to the cloudy, detached feeling the medicine gave me.

Mama was probably going to have a fit about this!

I carried myself out the locker room and found a shadow standing hunched over in the main room. I waddled over and before my overstretched hand could touch it, the shadow moved swiftly.

"Chouyo," it said after a gasp.

I frowned as my brain worked too hard. "Wait... _Iruka_ -sensei?"

Iruka-sensei had crouched down and looked at me eye to eye. His eyes were as fragile as a water's surface. He held my gaze briefly before looking at my nose, at my new wounds. And he did not smile.

My head tilted to the side, as if disappointed. "Are you okay? I'm okay."

"I'm deeply sorry," he exhaled. "I thought... you could do something like this. You were so excellent against Sasuke, the little brother of _Itachi_. I expected... I didn't think you would be _this_ injured."

 _Aw_ , I smiled _, you believe in me!_

Iruka-sensei was still a poor judge of character, but I admired his sincerity.

"It's fine," I told him, patting his shoulder. "I had fun!"

He looked dubious. There were _many_ reasons behind his look. Mainly, he, a Chuunin, must have suspected I was on medication or _something_ because even though I could be a bit energetic at times, it was weird of me to be energetic while this beat up. That, or he still felt guilty. Both options were equally likely.

"Iruka-sensei," I said seriously.

His dubious look faded into a purely attentive expression. "Yes?"

"My uniform is really ruined. I need to wash it for tomorrow."

The Chuuin didn't reply for a moment.

"...I think," he said, "I'll handle that for you, Chouyo."

I waddled home and got lost once. Well, I wasn't actually, but it felt like I was going the wrong way. Before I crossed the threshold, members of the Akimichi Clan were staring at me sympathetically. Before long, I heard the high-pitched of a certain woman.

"Chouyo Akimichiii!"

Probably faster than the Yellow Flash, Mama appeared before me and was tugging my face, surveying the wounds. She knew the nurse did all she could, but Mama still felt she could've done _more_ judging by her disappointed pout.

"Oh, Chouyo..." she cooed.

"S'okay," I mumbled as she stretched out my cheeks that could rival chipmunks. "The other guy got a scratch this time. And a few bruises too."

Mama grinned. When she did, sometimes her canine teeth would be prominent, which turned what should be a happy expression into a devious one.

"My Chouyo doesn't go down without a fight," Mama agreed. But then her grin dropped. "You don't even come home with this many bandages after spars."

"Mama, they're learning just like me."

"Still... are you sure this is safe? You're amazing, mainly because you're my daughter, but, well..."

Mama looked down at the ground with puffed out cheeks for a long time.

Releasing her breath, she said, "It's great you're the first girl to do Competitive Sparring! I love your determination, but you shouldn't do something _just_ to be the first. You always have to put your heart first. What do you love to do?"

Mama was all seriousness now. The sunset glow cradled the contour of her body, almost making her seem too dramatic, too grave. The shadows were a deep color, black and harsh. Her curves turned into sharp angles and made me hesitate to reply so easily.

 _What do you love to do?_

It was kinda ironic. Chouji and I had to become ninja whether we loved it or not. That fate could never be avoided once we were born. But after that, we had a _choice_ , didn't we?

Our lives are still our own, right?

Unease tugged at me, faint versus the general fog the medicine gave. Chouji and me... our lives... probably won't ever be _ours_. To be technical, at the end of the day my story would always be second place to Naruto's. And he, lacking a family and a history for the moment, had no one to please and no traditions to carry on his back. He was a free soul who could be his own.

He had a choice.

I would always be Chouyo _Akimichi_ in this world. People would see the bold green markings on my face and think _Akimichi_. They would see my chubbiness and the crest woven into my wardrobe and think _Akimichi_.

"Well," I said seriously, "I don't really care what others think of me."

Mama stopped poking at my face and stared, tilted her head. She looked at my head fiercely. "Joyo? Did you hit your head too hard?"

"That was fun," I told her. "Competitive Sparring was fun! I don't really care if I'm the first girl or the first Akimichi, or the first fatty to do it. I wanna do it 'cause my heart loves it!"

Mama's eyes went wide, her confusion vanished.

"It was so much fun," I said. "So much fun. I wanna do it again and again! Really!"

Because, honestly, here I was in a world that wasn't mine, where I was apart of clan whose beliefs weren't completely mine, and, in the grand scheme of things, my new name wasn't mine.

But I had one thing that was mine.

My heart was mine. It loved, it hated, and it kept me alive. The only thing I could do was enjoy this heart keeping me alive.

I grinned at Mama who smiled back, tears in her eyes.

The very next day, I returned, still bruised, still a bit medicated, still decorated in those white stripes.

But I couldn't have felt any better.

"Chouyo Akimichi versus Haru Hyuuga!"

My opponent, though, seemed to be covered in more white than me. The uniform was without wrinkles and odd folds, so supremely white against his pale, almost gray skin. His light eyes almost merged into his eye-whites, almost glowed with the sunlight reflecting off his uniform and shining into his eyes.

 _He really looks blind!_

Haru's hair formed a slender, black waterfall-like trail in a ponytail at the base of his skull. A neat, cleanly cut fringe hung over his forehead as if wet. His hair did not get in the way of his movements as he lowered into his ready stance and pointed an open palm to me.

"Just my luck," I said, unable to keep from smiling.

Haru's eyebrow lowered almost imperceptibly. Seemed as though I confused _him_!

"This is gonna be fun, that's all," I explained, which did little to erase the minute expression.

It was _fun_.

I got utterly demolished by the kid, but still.

I had _fun_.

This joy was mine. And even as I fell onto the mat unable to feel most of my body, I giggled.

Well, maybe the medicine made me do _that_ , but I was truly happy.

Haru looked down at me. He didn't offer any help. I doubt I could stand anyways.

"You lost every match," he stated. "How can you be laughing?"

My cheeks really hurt!

"I love fighting! You're a great fighter! I envy you!" I closed my eyes as my smile got bigger. "If the Hyuuga and Akimichi teamed up, we'd be unstoppable!"

Those are the last words I remember. When I was home, I told my family how the battle went down. I enjoyed their winces and their cheering, and when they put on sympathetic faces, I said, "I'm going to train for next time. I really want to do this!"

"Are you sure?" Chouji muttered. "It seems so painful."

"Well, that's a side effect, but it's way more fun. I mean, you know how much paperwork the Hokage does? And still, he doesn't quit!"

"His situation is a little different..."

"If you _really_ want to try again next year, you'll have to practice a lot, Joyo," Mama said. "It seems defeating your classmate Sasuke isn't enough to join Competitive Sparring."

"Definitely," I agreed, "but I think I know who can!"

"Eh? Can what?"

The Academy opened a few weeks later. All that mattered to me was recess. I sprinted across campus, searching and searching. Thankfully, I found what I was looking for before long.

I wasn't used to him wearing plain clothes. And they were really plain. The dark gray jacket and khaki shorts were a major downgrade. Interestingly enough, his silky hair was stuck in a high ponytail. Not a single strand was out of place, making him prettier than some of the other ponytailed girls I knew.

I stepped one foot inside the empty dojo before he turned.

"Rats! I was trying to be stealthy," I pouted.

Haru's expression was blank ( _unsurprisingly_ ). His voice was already deep, but soft and not often used. "What do you need?"

"I wanted to fight you again," I smiled. "It was fun the last time and it'll be fun this time!"

Haru glanced at his hands. There wasn't much to see. His pale hands were gloved.

"I do not spar for fun," he said. "I spar for necessity."

The dojo was nothing like the dojo in summer. It was dark and an early autumnal chill blew through the room. The white of his eye was darker and distinguishable from his eye whites.

Not to mention Haru was _here_ and not enjoying his break.

I wasn't that cold and I doubt Haru was either. Still, I walked and and sat cross-legged next to him, feeling the heat from his lean body. He didn't seem adverse to the breech in personal space (though I doubt he'd show it either way).

"Do you have any friends?" I said. "I have a few. Shikamaru and Ino are really awesome. Naruto is cool. Sasuke's my rival!" I chuckled saying it, immediately picturing Guy. "But my best friend ever is my brother Chouji!"

I looked at Haru's face, expecting eye contact, but finding myself dismayed by how he kept his eyes away from mine. Unable to get a direct look at his face, his moody, mysterious profile became fascinating.

"None," Haru said, so quick, so quiet.

"No friends?"

"None."

"But..." I thought about what to say. "Acquaintances?"

"None."

"Friendly strangers?"

"None."

"That's weird," I exhaled. "Why wouldn't anyone like you?"

Haru's hand twitched slightly.

"You know nothing about me," he said. "How could you do the same?"

He looked down at an angle, sliding his fringe too the side and revealing a small piece of a bright blue scar. The color was too harsh against his monochrome, too vivid in the muted room. I want to lick my thumb and rub it away.

 _That won't ever go away, though. 'Cause it's the Caged Bird Seal_.

Haru looked at me. Because I stared at his forehead, we locked eyes. I winced.

"It is alright to laugh," he said, so light it almost couldn't be heard.

"Why would I laugh?" I blurt.

"Do you understand what that means? I am a servant to the heiress and my clan leader. This body belongs to the Hyuuga Clan, though I have a name, I do not matter."

"Yes, you do," I said. "We _all_ do. In a way."

Haru didn't seem to be in pain. He closed his eyes and breathed steadily, more on guard for my laughter than his seal.

 _The kid's never lived any other way. He probably doesn't understand_.

The atmosphere made me jumpy. It was too heavy. Every noise echoed, reminded me of how alone we were. If I kept thinking too much, I'll probably get really depressed!

I slapped my knees. "You know, I'm surprised you didn't get on the team!"

Haru opened his eyes and blinked. "I suppose I must train more. I have been neglectful."

"You? You didn't train? _Unbelievable_!"

"No, I do train, I always train. However, training is ineffective if you are not fully present."

"So you daydreamed? Well, what about? Do you _like-like_ someone?"

Haru does not get flustered. "I don't worry about those things. They are not the most important."

"Eh? Then what—"

Haru tensed. Considering he was several years older than me, I figured he knew what was up. I focused until I heard the sounds of quick footsteps. Super rapid steps a little kid would make.

"Chouyo! It's time for class! Where _are_ you?"

I stood. "Ino! She's amazing, coming out to find me! Then again... maybe she thinks I'm skipping."

Mizuki-sensei would not be pleased if I skipped. He'd smile while Killing Intent encroached my heart. With Iruka far away and first years having no idea what the technique was, I would be hopeless. It was scary and almost traumatizing.

"I have to go, Haru, but I'll see you later!" I waved at him. Haru didn't budge. "Um, you have to wave back! It's nice!"

"Why would you want to meet again? Are you not six? I am not your age."

I huffed. "I _know_ you're way older. But I don't really care about age and junk. I like you, Haru, so let's meet again! And let's fight again some day too!"

Haru took way too long to reply. I had to get to class ASAP, so I throw him a quick wave and raced to find Ino. She was relieved to see I hadn't skipped nor aggravated my wounds. And she promptly dragged me to class.

I found Haru in the same spot as yesterday, though earlier. The room was still dark and lonely, but Haru wasn't idly kneeling on the ground. Haru was sweeping. He had stopped to look at me.

"Hi!" I waved furiously. "I did some punching exercises yesterday! Wanna see how gross my hands look?"

Haru didn't reply but the broom slipped from his hands and collided onto the wooden floor noisily.


End file.
